


Back to life

by Lilac_the_wolf



Series: Dance with the Devil [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Devil Jim Moriarty, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28637304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilac_the_wolf/pseuds/Lilac_the_wolf
Summary: Sherlock has come back to life, just to find his brother in a state he hadn't expected. Cue a lot of unsaid things that are finally revealed.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty
Series: Dance with the Devil [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098254
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Back to life

**Author's Note:**

> So, I think it's not necessary to read the first one-shot in the serie to understand everything, but I would recommend it.

Sherlock had never hated feeling alive as much as he did right now. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that he felt like it was going to burst out at any moment. He had just spent a little over a month in Hell with Moriarty. It had been a month of absolute happiness. But the desire to return to Earth had made itself heard, and that's what he had done, after Moriarty had given him the status of a demon. Except that his disappearance had not been taken as well as he had hoped, and especially not by the person he had expected.

John had hit him. Then Sherlock had tried to explain, John still didn't believe him, and he had taken another hit. Sherlock then demonstrated his new powers by shooting himself in the head without so much as a blink and John believed him. They had exchanged a few more words before John suddenly froze, seemingly remembering something. He had looked Sherlock straight in the eyes and said:

“You've got to go and see your brother.”

It was for this reason that Sherlock was now standing in front of the door of a highly secured hospital room. Sherlock swallowed. John had been vague in his explanations, so he had gone to see Anthea. She had remained impassive as she had explained to him that a good part of Moriarty's network had been wiped out, sometimes by his brother's own hand. As proof of this, she had shown him Mycroft's blood-covered jacket and explained that she had found him in the middle of a bloody carnage, and that it was from that moment on that he had refused to do anything any more. By this she meant that he had simply stopped moving, talking or eating. This explained why he ended up in a hospital room.

Sherlock took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The room was dark, with no windows, but enough light filtered into the room through the corridor for him to see where he was going. He walked towards the bed as quietly as he could and turned on the lamp beside it. His brother lay there with his eyes closed. Sherlock had never seen him like this before. He was pale and had clearly lost several pounds, which could be explained by the IV stuck in his arm, which must have been his only source of nutrition. Sherlock felt his heart tighten. It was his fault. He had been convinced that his disappearance wouldn't affect anyone. But now he was confronted with the fact that it wasn't true. Sherlock stepped back suddenly as his brother slowly opened his eyes. His presence must have awakened him. Yet he just stared at the ceiling with an empty gaze without noticing him. Sherlock waited, one minute, two minutes, the silence only broken by the occasional beeps of the few machines that kept Mycroft alive. Then he realised that he would have to signal his presence. He approached the bed again, until his knees touched the edge. Slowly Mycroft turned his head towards him. There was no reaction on his face.

“Sherlock,” he said flatly in a whisper. “You've come back.”

Sherlock nodded his head slowly, completely petrified. Mycroft turned again his attention towards the ceiling before closing his eyes.

“Please leave me alone,” he whispered.

Sherlock didn't immediately understand. If he'd got himself into such a state because of his death, he should be happy to see him alive, shouldn't he? Mycroft reopened his eyes and laid them on Sherlock again.

“Why aren't you leaving ?” he asked in a trembling voice. “I know you're not really my brother, leave me alone.”

He finally understood. Mycroft thought he was a hallucination.

“It's really me, Mycroft,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft shook his head slowly.

“No,” he said in a broken voice. “You're not there anymore, little brother.”

He raised his hand slightly to Sherlock, who had tears in his eyes.

“Why aren't you here ?” he asked weakly.

Sherlock grabbed his hand in his own.

“I'm here big brother,” Sherlock said softly.

He felt his brother's fingers closing on his own. Something in his gaze seemed to wake up. His mind had gone away, but not so far as to believe that a hallucination could cause the sensation of touch. He squeezed so hard, with all the strength he had left, that his fingernails digged into the skin on the back of Sherlock's hand. This would leave marks, but Sherlock didn't take his hands away.

“Sherlock ?” he said in a whisper without really believing it.

“It's me, Mycroft.”

Sherlock could see a tear running down his brother's cheek. He didn't let go of Mycroft's hand, but moved his other hand up to his cheek to gently wipe the tear away. He left his hand on his cheek. His brother's skin was ice-cold.

“I saw your corpse,” whispered Mycroft. “I held it in my arms.”

“But I came back,” Sherlock said.

He forced himself to smile.

“I've come back Mycroft,” Sherlock repeated, feeling his own tears beginning to flow, and he couldn't stop it.

Mycroft looked at him as if he'd just seen a ghost, and he had.

“I thought... I'll never see you again,” said Mycroft.

“I thought you wouldn't care.”

Sherlock bent down, resting his forehead against his brother's chest. 

“I'm sorry,” Sherlock whispered. “I'm sorry.”

He felt terribly guilty. Because he knew he could have come back much sooner. He clung to Mycroft's shirt. Slowly, feeling a sudden burst of strength, his brother managed to raise his arms to hug him.

“Don't go away again,” Mycroft whispered. “Don't leave me alone again.”

“I won't leave you again,” Sherlock promised between sobs.

“I was alone Sherlock, alone, alone, alone...”

Sherlock raised his head, his tears running freely down his cheeks.

“I didn't think... you loved me... this much...”

If he was really honest with himself, Sherlock didn't think his brother loved him at all. He was apparently completely wrong about that.

“I'm nobody without you Sherlock,” said Mycroft, looking him straight in the eyes. “Why would I live if not to protect you ?”

Sherlock straightened up completely and wiped his tears with his sleeve.

“Why... didn't you ever tell me ?” he asked softly.

“I didn't think you cared... I thought I loved you enough for two, you didn't need to know and care too.”

It was a ridiculous way of thinking, even Sherlock could see it. Sherlock had suffered because of it, all those years he had rejected his brother, believing that he didn't love him. But he couldn't blame him. Because it wasn't his fault, he couldn't control how he thought. Sherlock took his brother's hand in his own again.

“I love you Mycroft,” Sherlock said softly. “And I will never leave you again.”

A faint smile appeared on Mycroft's face, perhaps the most sincere smile Sherlock had ever seen.

“Do you promise ?,” whispered Mycroft.

“It's a promise.”

Sherlock could see something new in his brother's eyes. It wasn't just that he had come to his senses, no, because he had never seen him look at him like that, even before. Then he understood. It was happiness. His brother was happy, and he had never seen that before. Sherlock smiled and leaned over to him again and hugged him again.

“Sherlock ?”

“Hm ?”

“I saw you dead.”

Sherlock stepped back slightly, without letting go, to look at him.

“It's a long story.”

“I've got time,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock let go of him.

“We can go down to the hospital restaurant, maybe eat some cake, and talk,” he said.

“I... I don't think I can walk.”

“Of course you can,” Sherlock said, grabbing his hands.

And he pulled him towards himself to help him get up. Mycroft seemed surprised to be able to stand on his legs when he hadn't moved and hadn't eaten in over a week. He looked at his brother, who had a small smile on his face, as if he knew. As if he was responsible.

“I'll explain everything to you,” Sherlock said.

And they walked out of the room together.

A few minutes later, Sherlock was staring at his brother. They were both sitting opposite each other in the hospital restaurant. As soon as they saw Mycroft arrive, the staff had sent the few patients who were there away. So they were alone, and Mycroft was enthusiastically devouring a piece of chocolate cake covered with pink icing. He was too busy at the moment to ask any questions but Sherlock knew it wouldn't last long. Mycroft was cutting his third slice when he finally looked at his brother.

“You've got some explaining to do,” he reminded him.

“Don't you want to finish eating first ?” Sherlock asked.

“No, I don't.”

He looked away.

“Sherlock, you were dead.”

He looked at his brother again. There was still a glimmer of doubt in Mycroft's eyes. He still thought the whole thing might be a dream.

“But I'm back now,” said Sherlock. “Maybe I wasn't so dead.”

Mycroft had a sad smile.

“You were really dead. I spent... hours with your corpse, and it was you, you couldn't have fooled me,” he said. “Then you came back to life, which implies that there is life after death, and that you have found a way to come back from it.”

Sherlock stared silently at his brother for a short while before answering.

“You spent several hours beside my corpse ?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“Don't change the subject,” he said.

Sherlock felt more like Mycroft was changing the subject, but he didn't say anything.

“I came back from the dead. From Hell.”

“Hell ?” Mycroft said with an anxious look on his face.

“But I didn't suffer at all there,” Sherlock quickly added.

Mycroft seemed to relax a little.

“Then what happened ?” he asked.

“I met the Devil there.”

Mycroft widened his eyes.

“The... Devil ?”

“Yes,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft put down his fork and stood up.

“Mycroft ?,” said Sherlock.

“This is a dream. It's just a dream, and you're still dead,” he said.

Sherlock got up as well.

“No, Mycroft, I'm really here.”

His brother looked hesitant. It was only natural that he wouldn't believe it.

“Please sit down and listen to me all the way.”

Mycroft stayed up for a moment before he sat down again. But he didn't start eating again. Instead, he crossed his fingers under his chin and didn't take his eyes off Sherlock. He had no choice but to continue his explanation.

“To make a long story short,” Sherlock said, “the Devil followed my exploits on Earth and decided that he liked me. So when I died, he came looking for me, and made me one of his demons.”

“So... you're at the Devil's service now ?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock leaned back into his chair.

“Not really,” said Sherlock. “It's more of an egalitarian relationship.”

“Except when you feel like serving me,” said a voice behind Mycroft.

Sherlock raised his head and Mycroft suddenly turned around. Moriarty stood there with a smile on his face. Mycroft stared at Moriarty for a moment before looking at his brother and then shifting his attention back towards Moriarty. The latter gave him a big smile.

“Good morning Mr. Holmes,” said Moriarty cheerfully.

“You are alive too,” said Mycroft.

Moriarty grabbed a chair from another table and dragged it next to Mycroft's chair. He let himself fall into it. Mycroft and Sherlock kept their eyes on him. Moriarty didn't seem to care about the attention he was getting. He grabbed Mycroft's fork and plate and proceeded to finish the half-eaten slice.

“What are you doing here ?” Sherlock asked.

“I thought you might need my help,” Moriarty said between bites. “I liked your reunion, it was moving.”

Sherlock sighed.

“You've been watching me all this time ?”

“I'm always watching you,” said Moriarty, looking him straight in the eyes.

Then Moriarty turned his head towards Mycroft.

“You look at me as if you've seen a ghost,” he said.

Mycroft didn't answer him.

“You're dead too after all,” said Sherlock.

Moriarty turned his head towards him.

“Not really,” he said. “I just killed my body, but I was never dead.”

He looked at Mycroft again.

“It wasn't easy getting my body back, I don't thank you.”

Mycroft crossed his arms and stared at him.

“What are you ?” he asked in a tone he wanted as controlled as possible.

“Oh, I'm sure you can guess,” said Moriarty with a small smile.

Mycroft looked at him silently for a little while, going through all the possible deductions he could think of. There was only one that made sense, and it was the one he liked the least.

“You are the Devil.”

“Congratulations, you're not a complete idiot,” Moriarty mocked.

Mycroft moved his chair back slightly to put some distance between himself and Moriarty.

“Don't worry Mycroft,” said Sherlock, “he's not a danger.”

“I could kill you in a split second, but yes, there's nothing to worry about,” said Moriarty with a big smile.

Mycroft got up as calmly as he could and took several steps back.

“Well, it's going well, don't you think ?” Moriarty said, turning to Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't pay any attention to him, he stared at Mycroft.

“You still think it's a dream, don't you ?” Sherlock asked softly.

“I don't think so, I'm sure of it,” said Mycroft, looking around him.

He must have been looking for something that would prove to him that it wasn't real. He approached one of the tables in the restaurant where there were some half-finished plates. He grabbed one of the knives. No sooner had he done that than Sherlock leapt to his feet, but Moriarty was quicker. Mycroft found himself on the floor with a hand around his throat.

“If you do that,” Moriarty growled, “I'll bring you back from Hell to kill you myself.”

“Jim, let him go.”

Moriarty reluctantly obeyed and stepped back. Mycroft got up with difficulty. Sherlock rushed towards him and grabbed his arm, a little to help him regain his balance, but mostly so that he wouldn't try anything else stupid.

“I wasn't going to kill myself,” mumbled Mycroft, giving Moriarty a quick glance. “I just thought a stab would wake me up if it was a dream.”

“It's not a dream,” said Sherlock. “And I'm certainly not going to let you stab yourself.”

Mycroft looked at him in disbelief.

“That's exactly what you would say if it was a dream.”

“Mycroft...”

Sherlock didn't finish his sentence and sighed.

“I know it's not a dream,” said Mycroft suddenly. “But I can't believe it's real.”

He put both hands on Sherlock's shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.

“You're a demon.”

It wasn't a question.

“Yes,” Sherlock answered anyway.

Mycroft seemed hesitant.

“But... you're still the same person, aren't you ? You're still Sherlock ?”

Sherlock didn't know how to answer that. He didn't feel like he'd changed. But he wasn't technically the same.

“If I may intervene,” said Moriarty, who was only a few steps away from them with his hands in his pockets, “his soul is the same, but it's not his body.”

Mycroft turned his head towards him.

“Does this mean that biologically he's no longer my brother ?”

Moriarty seemed to think for a moment, swinging back and forth on his heels.

“If you were to do a DNA test, yes,” Moriarty said. “But it's still an artificially created connection.”

Mycroft turned his attention to Sherlock and let him go.

“Mycroft, I'm still your brother,” Sherlock said with a worried look.

“I know, I know,” he replied quickly.

He looked down. Sherlock decided not to say anything more. To give him time to think. But he couldn't help feeling nervous. What if Mycroft rejected him now that he wasn't human any more ?

“You're still my brother,” Mycroft said abruptly, raising his head.

“You're not angry with me ?” Sherlock asked hopefully.

Mycroft looked surprised.

“Be mad at you ? Why should I be mad at you ?”

“That's right, it's my fault you're a demon now,” Moriarty intervened.

Sherlock looked at them one at a time before lowering his eyes.

“But I've been in Hell for a month.”

Mycroft approached him.

“Sherlock,” he said softly. “It's all right.”

“It hurt you,” Sherlock replied in a whisper as he looked at him.

“We've talked about this before, you didn't know,” said Mycroft softly.

And to back up his words he hugged his brother. Sherlock allowed him to do so and even breathed a sigh of contentment.

“I accept you, even though you are a demon now,” said Mycroft.

Sherlock laughed as he put his forehead on his brother's shoulder.

“Now I'm the one who will protect you,” he whispered.

“Ridiculous,” said Mycroft, holding him a little closer. “Don't expect me to stop watching you. You still need me.”

There was a little silence before he added in an anxious tone:

“Don't you ?”

Sherlock looked up at him with a smile.

“Of course, I'll always need you,” he said softly.

Mycroft replied with a big smile. They broke away from each other.

“But don't forget,” said Sherlock, “now you have a demon and the Devil himself on your side.”

“I'm not on his side,” Moriarty replied at once.

“If you're on mine, you're also on his,” Sherlock replied.

Moriarty preferred not to answer and instead returned to their table. He helped himself to another slice of cake. Sherlock sat back down, in the place that Mycroft had occupied, next to Moriarty. His brother stayed up, watching them.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Holmes ?” Moriarty finally asked.

“Why have you turned my brother into a demon ?” asked Mycroft. “Why didn't you just leave him dead ?”

“I think that's for Sherly to answer that,” smiled Moriarty.

Mycroft looked at his brother whose cheeks had turned pink and who looked embarrassed.

“Oh, I see,” said Mycroft. “That's why you stayed there for a month.”

“Exactly,” said Moriarty as his smile widened.

Mycroft seemed to think for a moment before declaring:

“The Devil is my brother-in-law.”

“We're not married,” Sherlock said quickly.

“Not yet,” Moriarty added.

Sherlock looked at him in disbelief, but Moriarty said nothing more. Sherlock turned his attention back to his brother. He seemed to take the news rather well. He could even see in his eyes a glint that he knew well.

“You're thinking about all the political advantages this could give you, aren't you ?” sighed Sherlock.

Mycroft didn't answer him, he'd already gone too far in his thoughts.

“I'm not your ally,” Moriarty reminded him.

Mycroft looked at him, his remark having got him out of his head.

“But just to know of the existence of Hell, and incidentally of Paradise, is a definite advantage.”

Moriarty had a cold smile on his face.

“And a danger,” he breathed.

Mycroft shrugged.

“I don't have to worry about that, as long as I have my brother by my side.”

“True,” Moriarty simply admitted.

Sherlock stood up.

“Apart from you,” he said, looking at his brother, “I've only told John that I'm back for now. I have to go and see the others.”

Then after a short pause he added:

“Do you want to come ?”

“With pleasure,” said Mycroft.

Moriarty looked up at them.

“It's going to be fun, can I come ?”

Sherlock knew that even if he said no, he'd still follow him.

“Yes,” he said.

Moriarty had a big smile on his face and stood up. So they left the hospital, Sherlock taking great care to stay close to his brother, while his brother did his best to keep his distance from Moriarty, who wouldn't let go of Sherlock.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, and feel free to leave comments !


End file.
